The Unluckyest of Companions
by world-classgeek
Summary: An unlikely-and unlucky-group of friends,are just a hop, skip and a jump behind the Fellowship of the Ring. T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: Ellie

**Disclaimer: I don't own Middle-earth, the Shire, hobbits, Bilbo or any other familiar people or places. Fortunately however, there are a few characters in this story that belong to me!**

"Ellie? Ellie! _Ell-ie!_" the hobbit shouted. "Where is that girl?" he mumbled.

"Coming!" the young hobbit girl scrambled down out of her tree-house. Her blond braids bounced behind her as her bare feet pattered on the worn path.

"Ellie, where were you? Your mother's been looking for you for ages!"

"Sorry, uncle…" Ellie Brandybuck mumbled.

"Well, run ahead, and help your ma with supper."

"Yes, uncle."

The hobbit muttered to himself as the girl ran ahead. "She's far too adventurous for a hobbit. And that blond hair, most unnatural. Ah, she's just young, and been listening to that cracked old Bilbo's stories far too much, shouldn't wonder."

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Seventeen year old Ellie Brandybuck belonged to one of the oldest families in the Shire. The Brandybucks of Buckland (oh, wasn't that imaginative! Took a whole lot of thinking to come up with that one, didn't it!) were well respected in the Four Farthings, even if they were considered a little bit cracked by some. Ellie was strange, even for a Brandybuck.

To start with her mother was a Took. Now the Tooks _were_ the oldest, wealthiest, and most well respected family in the Shire. But quite a few young 'uns over the years, went off on some strange quest or other, and never came back. The family did shush the whole affair up as much as they could and did rather well considering the circumstances.

She also had blond hair, a rather uncommon trait in the shire. Ellie was a third cousin, twice removed on her mother's side, to Bilbo Baggins. _The_ Bilbo Baggins. Reported to have traveled in the WILD, with DWARVES and a WIZARD, and to have actually KILLED a real, live, fire-breathing DRAGON. Of course, none of this was true, according to most of the adults. But if you listened to Bilbo himself, like Ellie did, it turned out that most of it was true. While the old hobbit didn't actually kill the dragon, he certainly had a hand in it. And Ellie believed every word.

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Ellie wanted to go on all those adventures that old Bilbo talked about. The first time she met him, she was at Bag End with her cousin Meriadac, whom everyone generally just called Merry. He was a good twelve or so years older than she was, but Ellie was a tomboy and Merry thought that she was great fun, even if it did mean that the rest of the boys called him silly and noodle-headed to always have your baby girl cousin tagging along. Merry's friend Frodo was a first cousin to Bilbo, but on the Baggins side, rather than the Took side. Frodo was tall for a hobbit, dark haired with laughing bright blue eyes. Ellie liked him from the first. Frodo was thirty-two, almost an adult. They had the same birthday, Frodo and Ellie. September 22. It was also Bilbo's birthday on that day too.

Bilbo was always eager to tell a story to any willing ear. Frodo, who since he lived with Bilbo, had heard all the stories a thousand times, was very willing to hear them again. Merry and his best friend, Pippin Took, had also heard them many times, but to Ellie they were completely new. She sat listening to Bilbo for hours, enthralled at his wondrus tales. She came back again and again. That was last winter.

Now this fall Bilbo was turning Eleventy-one. One hundred and eleven! A marvelous age! And he was having a party. A very big party!


	2. Chapter 2: Raunien

**Disclaimer: I don't own Mirkwood. Bummer. Or Legolas. Double bummer.**

Raunien stumbled as he carried the stack of books in to the library, dropping the books all over the place. The young Elf winced as a muscle spasm lanced through his slightly twisted right leg. That leg had bothered him his entire life. He had been born with it. _Darn it,_ he thought. _Why does always have to happen at the most inconvenient time?_ He had been trying to prove to everyone that he would be able to take the journey to Imladris with Prince Legolas. He had been turned down.

Raunien sighed and began to pick up the books. Why, why, why had Naneth sailed when she did? His Ada had been killed in the Battle of Five Armies long ago, when Raunien was quite small. His Naneth had sailed to Valinor soon after, leaving her small son in Mirkwood. The young Elf had grown up an orphan in the Halls of Thranduil, king of Mirkwood. When he was old enough, Raunien had been apprenticed to the Lore-Master, since he had been deemed unable to be proficient at any other job.

It made him mad. No one had given him a chance! He was actually quite good with a sword. Raunien had been a good student in school, turning in assignments on time and studying well. He was broken out of his thoughts by a voice.

"Here, I think you dropped these."

Raunien looked up. "Sire! I—Thank you." The fair-haired Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf, picked up the stack of books.

"Here, I'll help you with these." Legolas carried the stack of books and set them on a table in the library. "You're Raunien Corithion, right?" Raunien nodded. "I knew your father. He was a good man."

"Thank you." Raunien said.

"I've been watching you, Raunien. You are quite good with a sword. How would you like to come with me to Imladris? Lord Elrond is summoning a council, and there is room for one more in my party."

"You'd take me, sire?" Raunien blinked in surprise. No one had ever asked him to do something just because they wanted him personally to do it.

"Yes. And if you're coming, I would suggest packing. We're leaving in the morning."

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The next morning, Raunien, had packed and saddled his bay mare, Suliad. He had trained her himself. The mare had been a present to himself. He had saved all the money he had earned doing odd jobs, since his apprenticeship to the Lore-Master was for room and board only. The yearling filly had been very wild and the Horse-Master more than willing to sell her to a boy who claimed he could tame her. And Raunien did. He earned her trust, and trained her well. She would bear no other rider, save by Raunien's command. He would ride in the forest sometimes. Both horse and Elf loved the forest.

Greenwood the Great, it was called once by the wood-Elves who lived there. Now those who lived outside its borders called it Mirkwood. The dark recesses of the wood were known only to the wood-Elves and they guarded their secrets jealously, distrusting the Lake-Men and even more so the dwarves in the Lonely Mountain on the other end of long lake.


	3. Chapter 3: Nesselde

**Disclaimer: I don't own the twins. Or Rivendell. Both were the great ideas of a great author named J.R.R. Tolkien.**

**A/N: I'm not very good at this whole Elvish-sounding names bit. So…if someone's name is some random gibberish, that's why. Also, all these random characters are going to be tied together. Don't worry.**

**Ada: father, Naneth: mother**

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In introducing Nesselde Arethiel to our story, first we must introduce her father…

Areth was a headstrong, outspoken Elf, with fiery red hair and a temper to match. When he disagreed with something or someone, he said so. Needless to say, this did not endear him to Lord Elrond.

Elrond Half-Elven was a headstrong as Areth, perhaps even more so. But his temper had been checked by long centuries of ruling Imladris, called Rivendell by Men, a task marked by much grief and suffering. Elrond's wife, Celbrien, had sailed to Valinor after being badly wounded by orcs. Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's twin sons, had sworn to avenge her and never came home unless one of them was hurt badly. Areth was good friends with the twins.

Finally, Areth decided that he was fed up with rules. He and his wife left Imladris and he built a home for them several days from anywhere.

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A child was born to the couple several years later. A red-haired, blue-eyed girl, whom they named Nesselde. The family seemed to have no worries, except the usual that you would have if you live several days walk from the nearest village. Like would the corn grow, or would the small flock of hens lay enough eggs, or the cow give enough milk. No worries at all, until the orcs came.

The orcs stumbled upon Areth's farm quite by mistake. Of course, the Elves were taken by surprise. Nesselde's Naneth pushed her under a quilt back in the corner of the cottage.

"Shh…Stay here, Nesselde. Be very quiet. As quiet as a mouse. Stay until, Ada or I come to get you. Shh…" The little girl whimpered softly. She heard her Ada's voice.

"What do you want?"

Only an unintelligible growl came in reply. Nesselde peeked out from under the quilt. A huge, burly creature was towering over her Ada. The thing raised a blade—the little girl shut her eyes, blocking out the horrid sight of her father's murder. But even though her eyes were shut, she still heard the screams.

Had they gone? It had been forever since her father had cried out, followed in close succession by her mother's cry. Bright light suddenly flooded her vision.

"'Ey! 'Ere's a littl' girl-Elf!" the orc raised its black blade. She screamed. The blade whistled dangerously close to her head, slicing a deep cut on her left cheek. The only thing that had stopped it was a spear that had been run through the orc.

"That's the last one, Elrohir!" a voice called. "Well, well, look here." The voice said, much softer. An Elf suddenly was standing over the sobbing girl. He had dark hair and gentle grey eyes. "Shh…it's okay, little one…it's okay." He picked up the girl, wrapped in her quilt, and carried her outside.

"It was Areth, Elladan." A voice said. "Areth is dead!"

"I know, Elrohir." Elladan said. "I know." He walked over to the well and sat the little girl next to it. He hauled up a pail of water. "Here, little one. Let me wash that cut." He gently washed the cut on her face. She submitted to this. When Elladan was done she pointed to his own bloody hands. She cupped water in her small hands and poured it onto Elladan's much larger ones. Her small fingers washed the cuts and scrapes on his hands. "Thank you." He said. "What's your name?"

The girl was still crying. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "N-N-Nesselde." She hiccupped. "Naneth…Ada…" She started sobbing again. Elladan cradled Nesselde in his arms.

"Shh…I know…I know…" And he did know. He had lost his own mother to orcs.

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Elladan and Elrohir took little Nesselde Arethiel back with them to Rivendell. She was raised by the entire valley. She was smart, a good worker, helpful, and very willing to learn. The twins wished that they could be at home more often, so they could watch the foundling grow. When they were home, they taught her every thing they knew, and still she wanted to know more.

She devoured books and stories, and songs. The tale of the Simarillon was one of her favorites. She loved adventures, and much preferred to play with the boys than the girls.

One day, when Nesselde was nearly grown, Elrond sent messengers far and wide. He was summoning a counsel.

**A/N: There will be a continuation of this, I promise! Comments/suggestions are welcome.**


	4. Chapter 4: Myrlara

**Disclaimer: Gondor isn't mine, Rohan isn't mine, Middle-earth isn't mine….you get the picture.**

**A/N: another O/C. Soon all the O/Cs will be introduced and we can get on with the rest of the story!**

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"Stop, thief!" The cry rang through the streets of the White City. The teenage girl slid further into the shadowed alleyway, holding the piece of stolen bread. The shouts of the baker faded into the distance. She checked if the coast was clear, and headed in the opposite direction than that taken by the baker.

She slowly made her way through the maze that was Minas Tirith, White City of Gondor. She came eventually to the abandoned house that she lived in with her little brother.

"Here, Darik. I brought you something to eat." The girl sat next to the small boy. He was so thin.

"Thanks, Myrlara!" Darik said. When he was about halfway through the piece of bread, he stopped. "Want some?" he offered his sister.

"No. I'm fine." Myrlara lied. The truth was she hadn't eaten in two days. Any food she could beg or steal, she gave to her brother. He needed it. He was only eight years old. Myrlara was fifteen. Her mother had died in childbirth with Darik, and her father had been killed fighting in Osgiliath, under Lord Boromir, about four months ago. They had no other kin and were forced to live on the streets. Myrlara had been formulating a plan for sometime now. She had heard that Rohan, the country to the north, had plenty of places for an orphaned child to stay. She would take Darik there and find him a place to live; then she would continue north, to try to find her father's cousin that he had said lived in the village of Bree, past the Misty Mountains. If they were going to leave Gondor it would have to be soon. Mordor was preparing to wage war on Gondor's White City, and all the women and children would be sent south. Myrlara wanted to go north. They would have to leave tomorrow.

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Two weeks later found Myrlara, Darik on her back, knocking on the door of a small cottage near Edoras, the capital city of Rohan. A woman opened the door, a small girl clutching at her skirts.

"May we come in?" Myrlara asked.

The woman looked at the girl, dressed in boy's clothes, with an exhausted boy, about the size of her own child, on her back. "You look beat." She said. "Come in." She stood aside and Myrlara and Darik came in. "Sit by the fire and get warm. I've made soup."

"Thank you, ma'am." Myrlara said, taking Darik off her back and setting him on the floor. "I'm Myrlara, daughter of Lyraid. This is my brother, Darik."

"I'm Wendy and this is my daughter, Ella. My husband is stationed up in the city. He comes down on his days off. You're from Gondor. What brings you here?"

"My father was killed. My mother died in childbirth with my brother. We've got no other kin, except a cousin my father told me of. But that cousin lives way up past the Misty Mountains. I was hoping to find a place for my brother to stay, while I see if that relation exists."

"Well," Wendy said. "He can certainly stay here."

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Three months later, Myrlara had made her way to Rivendell. She had stumbled upon the outlying guards of the Elvish valley completely by mistake. And it hadn't even been a proper guard either. It was a girl, an Elf-maid, with red hair and blue eyes and a scar on her left cheek.

"Hi there!" the Elf-maid said, popping out of the bushes, and scaring Myrlara. She had a bow in her hand and a quiver across her back. "Who are you?" she said. "And what are you doing so close to Rivendell?"

"Who are you?"

"I asked first."

"I'm Myrlara, daughter of Lyraid. Am I close to Rivendell?"

"Oh yes. Less than an hour's walk. By the way, I'm Nesselde Arethiel. Arethiel means daughter of Areth." Nesselde ran to the top of the ridge. "Coming, Myrlara? Lord Elrond will want to know why you're on his lands. And Elrohir and Elladan are coming tonight!"

**A/N: I will actually get to the rest of the story soon. But first I need to get Ellie to Rivendell!**


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